


Vacation

by masterwords



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aaron Hotchner Needs a Hug, Fluff, Italy, M/M, Sickfic, Vacation, Vomiting, soft whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28144263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: Aaron Hotchner wasn't good at vacation.  He almost always ended up sick, and this was no exception.  Dave liked to say it was because he spent so much time stubbornly avoiding being sick so he never missed work that his immune system didn't know what to do with the down time.  Maybe there was truth in that, he was no doctor, so he had no idea – all he did know was that on night four of their two week stay in Italy, he started feeling off.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/David Rossi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I have at least one more part to Ice Castles to work through, but they were making me too sad so after having a beer, I decided to indulge a cute little whumpy sick!fic image that I’ve had in my head for weeks. It’s some cute Hossi love, because the main reason they’re my OTP is so beautifully overly simple - I hardcore stan someone taking care of Hotch, and I don’t think anyone else is really capable of it. He’s always the one who is strong, who is solid, who is the shoulder to cry on, and I can’t see anyone but Rossi being that person for him and I need that for him desperately. Especially with as often as I like to whump him. So...here you are. It’s cute, it’s whumpy, and it’s satisfying my need to see someone just give the man a hug. More Ice Castles tomorrow!

Vacation. Aaron Hotchner wasn't good at vacation. He almost always ended up sick, and this was no exception. Dave liked to say it was because he spent so much time stubbornly avoiding being sick so he never missed work that his immune system didn't know what to do with the down time. Maybe there was truth in that, he was no doctor, so he had no idea – all he did know was that on night four of their two week stay in Italy, he started feeling off. The first sign came while they were visiting the Cenacolo Vinciano in Milan, a chill followed by the odd sensation of being lightheaded while he was admiring The Last Supper. He brushed it off as just being in awe of the magnificence of what he was seeing and pressed on. Over dinner that night, he noticed his appetite waning sooner than usual, especially when faced with a steaming dish of the most beautiful risotto he'd ever seen. He managed to pick his way through it while Dave worked on a bottle of wine on his own. The next day, he woke up with a headache – just a fuzzy, dehydrated feeling that made his eyes feel dry and his face sore, like he'd had a little too much to drink even though he hadn't had a drop. He drowned it in cappuccino and toast, determined not to let it derail his good time. Dave had, he was sure, begun to be suspicious but wasn't saying anything yet. 

By the time dinner came around on their last night in Milan, he was sure he was coming down with something. His stomach turned at the thought of food, but he ordered a bowl of borlotti bean soup, at Dave's recommendation, and did his best. It was incredible, but it sat like a rock in his already very iffy stomach. He followed it with fizzy water, hoping that would settle what he was currently passing off as indigestion when Dave asked if he was alright. They called it a night earlier than Dave had intended, but he could see the writing on the wall and tried to intervene early. It was unsuccessful. Aaron woke the next morning with a worse headache, but they set out for Venice by way of train anyway. It was a long, beautiful ride through the country, but Aaron slept through most of it, bound tight in his coat though it was a beautiful spring day. Dave found himself enjoying the company of some older women on a group outing, doing his best to keep up with their Italian though his was rusty. They had all sorts of home remedies to help Aaron feel better, and by the time the train reached Venice, Dave had a list as long as his arm of all the things he would need to get for his sick friend. Aaron did alright for a while, he was a trooper, but it was only a matter of time before everything went all topsy turvy. They'd stopped for a bite to eat and Aaron tried a glass of water and a few crackers from the meat and cheese tray Dave had ordered, but his body rejected it almost immediately. He paid his euros and spent some time in the public toilet. Dave waited patiently outside, and this was how they spent much of their day. Walking around, seeing a few things, paying for Aaron to spend about ten minutes throwing up in a public toilet, repeat repeat repeat. By the end of the day, Aaron was miserable and barely standing, try as he might just to power through. They checked in to their hotel, and while Aaron crawled into bed to go directly to sleep, unable to muster anything else, Dave wandered down to a cafe nearby and had dinner by himself. Upon his return, Dave found that Aaron was still sleeping soundly, so he slipped out of his shoes and began washing up. 

“Dave?” Aaron croaked from somewhere deep inside of his nest of blankets. “Dave I think I'm sick.”

“You think?” Dave smirked, sitting beside him on the bed. Not too close, though. He was not about to share in this illness when they still had so much exploring to do. They might have to push back a few plans, cancel a few others, but as long as it was only Aaron who got sick, they'd still be just fine. Dave had, though he'd never cop to it, planned some wiggle room for this very purpose. It would have been more of a surprise if they'd had a whole trip with no illness. 

“Just get some rest.”

“Do I have a fever?”

Dave pulled back the covers slighty, revealing Aaron's pale face, his glassy eyes red rimmed and sleepy lidded. He placed his hand directly on Aaron's forehead, fully aware that it wasn't the most accurate way to tell a fever, but he did feel very warm. And clammy. It could have been just the fact that he’d created a cocoon inside of the blankets, but he did suspect it was a real fever. 

“Probably,” was his reply, very softly. Aaron let out a faint groan and pulled the blankets around his face again. “I'm calling my cousin to let her know we'll be a few days late, we'll just stick around here a while until you're well.”

Aaron whimpered somewhere deep inside of his nest. 

The conversation with his cousin hadn't gone as Dave had intended. He'd begun with a lovely, boisterous greeting, and then the bad news, that his partner wasn't feeling well and they'd have to stay a few extra days in Venice before traveling. His cousin and aunt were sharing the phone, both shouting over one another that they needed to come first thing in the morning, that no one should be sick in a stuffy hotel room, that he'd heal faster in the countryside – by the end of the conversation, which Dave had contributed very little to, they had all decided that Dave's cousin's husband would pick them up at their hotel by 0800 and he would drive them out. He'd never met the man before, and now he was being chauffeured around Italy by him with his sick partner in tow. Things were spiraling, but Dave hoped it was for the best. He'd lost control of the entire situation. 

When the morning sun streamed through the window, Dave was already up and packing their bags onto a rolling cart left by the door. He woke Aaron at the very last minute, trying to let him sleep as much as he could. The man looked like death – his skin was pale, his eyelids sagged, and he couldn't get warm even after putting on two sweaters, Dave's jacket and his own. He looked like a madman, walking along slowly with his arms folded tight over his chest, just trying to make his way down the hallway to the main lobby on legs that threatened to collapse underneath him. Dave had noted, with some joy, that Aaron's bedhead was among the best he'd ever had. There were so many small things, insignificant things by anyone else's count, that brought unbridled joy to a person – Aaron's bedhead was one of those things for Dave. The car they were to ride in was tiny, but they'd managed to shove the luggage into the back without too much difficulty, the harder part was fitting Aaron into the backseat that was hardly made for a child. He lay down, curled up on the seat under a wool blanket that was always kept in the car and fell fast asleep before they'd even managed to get out of the city. Dave and his cousin's husband, Leo, got on rather well for their hour and a half drive. Leo turned out to be quite an interesting man, and he'd had plenty of questions for Dave about his frightening job. By the time they'd arrived in Valeggio sul Mincio, they were already making plans for their visit.

The house was exactly as Dave had remembered it as a child, except slightly more weather worn. On one side was wide open hillside as far as the eye could see, an old castle at the top overlooking it all, and the other was all water, a house that was built on the bank of a lake. It was one of many, tall and thin and smashed together wall to wall but each painted a different color. His family happened to live in the one the color of marigolds in the fall. As a child, he remembered coming to spend summers with the cousins here, but he hadn't been now in many years. Perhaps he'd been busy, perhaps just seeing other things, but seeing it now brought back such a rush of memories that he was overcome with profound sadness at all the time he'd chosen not to spend here. When the car came to a stop, out ran his cousin, Ilaria (Illie, to him, because when he was small he couldn't pronounce her full name) and her mother, Auntie Viola. They kissed Dave quickly, distractedly, and rather unceremoniously pushed him out of the way to get to the car. He couldn't figure out what was happening at first, but when Illie opened the car door and they began to help Aaron out into the sunshine, it all came together. He smiled. Aaron wouldn't know what was happening, would probably be unbelievably uncomfortable, but he wouldn't say anything to put off these two women who were suddenly putting themselves at his every beck and call. He looked at Dave as they ushered him into the house, confused but too sick to protest, and Dave followed quietly as they made their way up the tall, narrow staircases to the guest room at the end of the hall. The women chattered at Aaron in Italian, none of which he understood, and Dave translated as best he could but they were being pretty clear with their hands and movements. It didn't take long before Aaron's shoes were off and he was being tucked into the bed, extra blankets piled on top of him, his pillows fluffed. They patted Dave on the cheek, each in succession, and chided him for not coming sooner before leaving the room to gather their supplies. Dave just looked at Aaron, who looked utterly mortified, and shrugged. 

“You'll just have to get used to it,” Dave said softly, smiling. “They mean well.”

“I don't feel good, Dave,” Aaron whispered in the most pathetic voice Dave thought he'd ever heard. “My stomach hurts.” 

“I'm sorry, Aaron.” He'd been trying to keep some distance, in the interest of their trip, but his resolve had weakened considerably at seeing Aaron so miserable, so he decided to sit on the bed next to his partner and pull him in close, letting him rest his fevered head on his chest. Aaron curled up, pulling his knees up toward his chest because the pressure felt good against his cramping stomach. It didn't take long for Aaron to fall asleep there, and stay that way for hours. Illie and her husband had come and gone, bringing up their luggage and a book for Dave to sit and read as he comforted his sleeping, sick partner. They brought tea and coffee and snacks to keep Dave sitting there, because as Illie said, the sick needed comfort, and what could be more comforting than the touch of a loved one. Dave supposed she was right, it seemed to be helping Aaron sleep at the very least. 

This stretched on for days. Aaron's fever came and went, and with it came all the other symptoms of general human misery when a stomach illness was involved. He managed to cycle through all of them before finally feeling better, with all thanks due to Illie and Viola, who doted on Aaron day and night, except when they were making Dave to do it. Aaron hardly had to move a muscle for nearly four days straight, unless he wanted to. Dave was forced to learn a number of their remedies so that he could take care of Aaron back at home, because they were certain he hadn't done a great job up until that point. They were very likely correct, he surmised. They'd decided to spend the remainder of their trip in the countryside with Dave's family, forsaking the excitement of museums and tours and city life for rolling hills and glittering lakes and the love of a close family. They took daily walks, had home cooked meals, and played games or told stories well into the night. Aaron was even starting to pick up some passable Italian in spurts. The vacation, as it turned out, had been exactly what both of them had needed, even if there were some unexpected bumps along the way. 

Back at the BAU, Aaron was buried in paperwork at his desk. The team had done what they could to keep things caught up so he didn't have a mess on his hands, but there were many things out of their control. 

“Hey boss!” Emily Prentiss entered Aaron's office like she owned the place, plopping down on the couch and kicking her feet up. He peered across the room at her suspiciously as she pulled a postcard out of her breast pocket and began reading in her loudest, most obnoxious voice. 

“ _Venice was beautiful, Emily, truly magical. We've been having a wonderful time in Italy. I'm sitting here writing you while watching a Gondolier carting a young couple in love down the canal. Aaron, however, is losing whatever is left of his breakfast in a public toilet, as is his prerogative any time we go on vacation. I thought you, of all people, would truly appreciate what I'm about to share with you. He's now spent a small fortune to use the facilities, but he does say they're very clean, and he tries to leave them that way. Use your imagination. We can't wait to tell you more when we're back._ ”

Aaron stared at her, his hand now on his forehead, the look of the long suffering. 

“Hotch?” she asked, sitting bolt upright, drawing his name out with a few extra syllables. “Did you clean the public toilets after you barfed in them?”

“That's not any of your business, Prentiss.”

“So you did. So you were _barfing_ and then _scrubbing_ , all day, while you were in _Venice, Italy_? I NEED to come with you on your next vacation, you big dumbass. Rossi doesn't take enough pictures, clearly.”

“He took plenty of photos,” Aaron replied, looking back down at his paperwork. “None of which any of you will ever see.”


End file.
